


How to deal with parents

by emilynicole98



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alcohol, Beer, Drinking, M/M, Underage Drinking, Weight Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-18
Updated: 2014-07-18
Packaged: 2018-02-09 08:45:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1976535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emilynicole98/pseuds/emilynicole98
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John gets pissed at his Dad and goes to Dave as per usual, blubbering. They drink copious amounts of alcohol and Dave comforts him.</p><p>(I was mad at my mom.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	How to deal with parents

You're at your boiling point. It's been this, and that, these little comments that your dad will throw at you. Nobody ever expects him to treat you like this, Dave's the only one who understands and realizes.

He makes little digs, comments to make you feel stupid or ashamed, or the way his voice sounds and the look he gives you makes you feel so stupid and you're sick of it and you hate him. He's not a bad father, you could have a lot worse. He's never hit you or done anything like that, he just makes you feel so bad about yourself.

The comment that threw you over the edge was when you were out to eat, and though he does this a lot, this time just drove you crazy. You ordered a burger, because you like burgers, and they taste good. And he gave you this fucking look. He was clearly agitated, which you knew was stupid, because it was your body. And why should it matter to him. "Are you sure? You know there's other options.." He said with that voice that you'd gotten accustomed to and it was the end of that because your dad KNEW you had problems with your body and your weight in the past and he knew how much you struggled to even eat and how long it took you to love yourself.

So he could fuck off.

You leave the restaurant and with the six dollars in your pocket take the bus to your best friends house, making your way over. You need to relax, you need to do something. You need to do something that would piss your dad off. You know it's stupid and unimportant and it won't make a change, but it will make yourself feel better, at least for tonight.

You arrive at the blonde's doorstep, cheeks tear stained, and when he opens the door, you rest your head on his shoulder instantly. His arms envelop you in warmth and its warmer than just his body heat, you're loving this. He's so cool about everything. Not cool in the way that he thinks he is, but cool as in calm and collected (when he needs to be, when you're hysterical. Otherwise he's an idiot like always). Finally you pull away, and you rub your eyes, sighing out heavily.

"Bro home?" You ask, stepping inside.

"Nah." He returns, shutting the door behind you and looking over you. "Why, what is it."

"You want to drink?" You ask feebly.

He hesitates, and you can tell he's looking over your condition, though you cant actually tell, from those tinted shades you got him so long ago. "Thought you didn't want to until you were twenty-one?" 

You almost stamp your foot in frustration, looking up at him. "Please."

Again another hesitation, and then he slips into the kitchen. He knows its a bad idea, you know its a bad idea, but still you want to. Soon he's returning with a six pack, holding it up and giving a hum. "Should be enough." He takes one out and removes the cap with the chair next to him, handing it over. He does the same and grabs the caps, tugging you into his room.

With one drink in your system you feel a little bit fuzzy, like your brain is on a channel that you don't receive. Dave seems unphased. You two are laying in his bed the opposite way you're supposed to, your head dangling off the side of the bed. After minimal coaxing, you're spilling how upset you are to him.

With two drinks in your system you're feeling better, like you're forgetting. Your stories are coming out a bit slurred, and you're forgetting them, but you'll never forget that Dave told you you had a hot bod. He's not romantic, but it was meant to make you feel better, you thought. It was sweet and..hopefully he meant it.

With three drinks in your system your head is in his lap, and he's petting your hair. You've forgotten everything you were worried about and his fingers combing through your hair feel so good and you finally accept the way he makes you feel, you accept that you want him to be more than your friend. And when you reach to take off his shades, he lets you.

Dave lets you have the rest of his fourth beer after you beg for it, and by now the only thing in your mind is Dave Dave Dave Dave Dave. You drunkenly straighten yourself in his lap, straddling him, and you lean forwards to kiss him, he tries to stop you. He tells you you're too drunk, he tells you you don't really want to do this, and you shake your head over and over and you tell him you want him. 

He lets you, and your lips smash into his. He tastes like beer and Dave and it's bitter but also so delicious, and you suddenly want him more than you ever have, more than in the dreams that you tried to ignore, more than when he jokingly called you honey and would brush your hair behind your ear. Your hands slide up to his shoulders and you pull him closer in a desperation to have him and Dave doesn't make you stop until you've squirmed out of your shirt.

Tasting like beer and the blonde you're cuddled up to, you pass out.

In the morning you wake up feeling horrible, your head hurts, you remember everything you tried to forget, you vaguely remember kissing Dave, and another one of the things you realize is that Dave's not in the bed with you. You stumble up from it- oh god you're shirtless- and pull his door open. And there he is. He has a plate in his hands with two poptarts on it, two half burnt fried eggs, and a glass of apple juice. 

You stare at him and then bury your face in your hands, apologizing repeatedly.

He laughs lightly, ruffling your hair. "Hey stop, I made you breakfast. It's shitty but I made it. Go sit down."

You obey, feeling like you owe that to him, and you're struck with how shitty this breakfast really is but how sweet the thought was. "I'm really sorry for what I did last night."

He shakes his head. "It's alright, I just didn't want you to regret anything, had to stop you."

"I wasn't going to regret it." Your stomach churns and you worry you'll throw up, but you realize you're just nervous. "I uh..like you."

He smiles, which is a rare sight, and he leans forwards to give you a small kiss, even though you're sure you taste terrible. "You said it a lot last night when you were trying to get into my pants, but it's good to hear it from a sober John."

You're shocked, but he just smiles a little bit wider. "I like you too. A lot. Eat your breakfast."


End file.
